The Chosen Few
by Varia Lectio
Summary: The family he's created, and the children he's taken-- Freddy's chosen them all very carefully. . . An exploration of Freddy Krueger's double life.


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The Chosen Few

Written by Varia Lectio; beta-read by Shadeshark. Many thanks to Shadeshark for her thoughtful comments and suggestion for a title. 

Rated M for adult thematic material and brief language.

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"Daddy! Daddy, Daddy!"

Fred Krueger awoke with a start. Beside him, he felt Loretta stir and mumble something.

Lightning flashed outside, and for a moment he thought the shrill cries he had heard were from some victim down in his basement; some small child that he had not yet put out of their misery. His nostrils flared, sniffing for the scent of blood on iron and leather-- then he realized that the child he had heard was his own.

Loretta sat up in bed, her blue eyes wide and fearful. "What is it?" she whispered to her husband.

"Katherine," he replied grimly, already out of bed and heading for the door.

He found Katherine in her bed, staring up at the dark ceiling with frightened eyes. Her favorite dolly was clutched tight in her arms, as if she were trying to shelter it from some nameless horror.

"What's wrong, sweetie-pie?"

Katherine's gaze darted from the ceiling to her father's face, and her mouth worked soundlessly for a minute or so. Finally, she whispered, "A monster, Daddy. I saw a monster."

"A monster, eh?" He sat down beside her and picked her up in his arms, toy and all, rocking her back and forth. _'I see monsters all the time when I sleep,'_ he thought suddenly.

"What sort of monster?" he asked her, keeping his tone light and cheerful. "Your regular old boogeyman, something from a TV show, or what?"

Her big dark eyes went to his face again, and she gulped. "No, Daddy." There were tears in her eyes-- frightened tears. He'd seen them before, on many little faces, running from eyes of all different colors. Before he was finished with them, the children would almost always cry. Sometimes they would beg. Sometimes they'd just stare at him, as his daughter was doing now.

He hugged her and patted her back, pushing the images of his _other_ children away. "Was it a new sort of monster, sweetie?" He kissed her dark, soft hair. It smelled strongly of the floral-scented shampoo that Loretta always bought. He never used the stuff himself-- the scent of fake flowers on a man was unforgivably sissy-- but on his daughter it actually smelled... nice.

He inhaled deeply, and waited for her to speak.

"Big. Horrible," she finally said, slowly and softly, as if the confession took great effort. "Big man, with knives on his hands. Fingers made of knives."

Freddy felt his heart seize up as she began to cry on his shoulder. Fingers made of knives-- dammit, had she seen his handiwork? Had she seen the gloves? He had so many of them-- he was so proud of all his hard work--

He breathed deep, and smelled her shampoo again. _'Got to stay calm,_' he told himself in that stern, no-nonsense voice that he had adopted from one of his more abusive step-fathers-- he couldn't remember which one._ 'Stay calm and keep your head on your shoulders. She'll never know. They'll both never know. You love them too much to let them find it all, don't you? So just keep up the work.' _

"Knife-guy, huh?" he said, and held his daughter at arm's-length so he could look into her eyes. "Well, it was just a dream, Kathy. A bad dream. But everyone has those, sometimes."

Her eyes were wide, gleaming, and, despite their fear, so innocent. So very innocent. _'If you ever saw what I have, sweetheart, that spark in your eyes would vanish-- just like that. . .'_

'You have bad dreams, too?" She seemed amazed by this information, and he realized that it was because, like all small children, she expected her father to be an unshakeable bulwark of strength and security. He laughed softly at her naivety. How charming. How touching.

"_Especially_ Daddy," he replied quietly.

"But _he _was scary--"

"And just how could he _not_ be real, huh? Well, sweetie--" he kissed her on the crown of her head-- "monsters aren't real. Not a one of 'em. You can trust me on that."

She smiled at him, even though tears were still in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Kathy. In a day or two, when the sun's shining and you're playing with your toys, you'll have forgotten all about this." He reached out and gently wiped her tears away, then started to tuck her back into her bed.

"Promise?" she said, lunging up at him for another quick hug.

"I promise, sweetie. Nighty-night." He laid her back down in the bed and tucked the comforter over her, up to her chin, then surreptitiously reached in under the covers and gave her arm a little pinch. "Don't let the bedbugs bite!"

She squeaked in surprise, but then settled down when she saw the smile on her father's face. Freddy brought his forefinger and thumb-- which he'd used to pinch her-- tightly together and looked at them with mock concern, saying, "Here be a bedbug, Kathy. . ." He rubbed his fingers together in a smushing motion. "Oops-- I think that's the end of him. No more bites for tonight." Katherine giggled.

He got up from the edge of the bed and walked to the door. Looking back at his little girl-- his sweetie-- he saw that her eyes were still open, and watching him. They sparkled in the darkness.

Just like his victims' eyes did. He sighed, feeling loving towards his daughter. This emotion brought back memories for him as well.

Sometimes, he even feigned tenderness for his victims-- pressing the remains of a shredded stuffed toy into a child's nerveless hands, perhaps, or wiping the blood off a child's skin with the gentlest strokes of his blades.

Sometimes that faux mercy was nearly real. Sometimes he almost-- _almost_-- felt regret; regret that their innocence was ending with pain and tears, just as his own had so many years ago.

But then he always became very angry-- angry at the little brats and angry at himself for showing something else to them than the punishment that they deserved. Their parents _had_ to pay! And so then he would always swiftly exact that payment, and another one would die.

And _so many_ people had debts to pay to Fred Charles Krueger. . .

"Go on back to sleep, hon," he told her softly. "You need to rest." She nodded obediently, and slid down against the pillows, and closed her eyes.

He closed the door behind himself and listened on the other side for a while. Soon he could hear the very faint sounds of her breathing.

Freddy made his way back to his and Loretta's bedroom. She was sitting up in bed, waiting for him, a deeply troubled look on her face.

"What's wrong?" He slid into bed beside her and put his arm around her thin shoulders.

She looked over at him with the sort of over-concerned expression that both irritated him and gave him a paranoid shiver. "Just a bad dream, that's all," he answered, trying not to let his irritation show. "She just had a nightmare. You know--" he mimed a monster in the darkness, hooking his fingers into claws-- "the boogeyman. Something like that, anyway." He lay down and rolled over, ready to forget about the whole thing and go back to sleep himself, but Loretta wasn't finished.

"I think she's been watching the news too much. All those children-- abducted, missing-- it's starting to affect her, Freddy."

He paused, leaning uncomfortably on one elbow. _'Damn, she could be right._' He had no idea as to how he should feel about this. _'My little girl. . .'_

Aloud, he said, "She wasn't dreaming about being abducted, Loretta-- it was just a scary nightmare. Every kid has 'em. Now come on--" he took hold of her arm gently yet firmly-- "I'm tired, it was a long day at work, and I want to go back to sleep. Unless--" he grinned suddenly at her-- "you want to do something else?" He gently rubbed her arm, his fingers trailing up slowly to her neck.

Loretta took his hand and kissed it, giving him that shy, fragile smile that had drawn his affections to her from the moment he had first seen her. His annoyance at her faded, then vanished. She had always been so kind to him, so tender... unlike almost everyone else who had ever entered into his life. She was so willing to trust her Freddy. That knowledge had once saddened him, for he knew that he really wasn't worthy of her trust, and for a while he had tried so hard to be good for her and for Kathy, but... continuing his special work was the important thing. The needed thing.

She drew him to her, kissing him, running her fingers through his hair. . .

And he kissed her back, just as fervently.

_'They must never find out. Never._'

And then the matter was forgotten-- for a while, at least-- by them both, as the night wore on, and as the thunderstorm outside passed over, and died away.

THE END.


End file.
